A Few Days with the Grissoms 18
by sarapals with past50
Summary: Continues "A Few Days" series, this one following Grissom and Sara into family life as a new little "Grissom" arrives. Last chapter is "M" rated. Number 18 in series. FLUFF!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This one takes place near the end of "Fire, Death & Family"; the story of Will Grissom._

**A Few Days with the Grissom Family: Chapter 1**

An uncomfortable edge pressed against her temple bringing her from a light sleep. Wispy feathery cobwebs floated across her face lifting her from dreams of warm sunshine and ocean scented breezes. She brought a hand to her face and tried to open her eyes.

The silky strains were dark and curly, attached to the head resting against her own. The point at her temple was an elbow. Sara grinned.

This was her child, her flesh and blood, whose breath warmed her cheek and whose pointed elbow had brought her from sleep. Long lashes made two dark crescents across her oval face hiding the blue-eyed genes of the child's father. Sara loved this little girl—it was something that Sara Sidle would not have comprehended a few years previously. Her first child—Elizabeth, Sara had named her—thinking she would call her Beth, was called Bizzy. Her father had given her the name before the baby was born; pressing his hand to Sara's abdomen and talking to "Bizzy Bee".

Sara was fascinated with this child; people wrote of the miracle of childbirth, but actually the miracle was of beauty and growth and biological engineering that made one believe that humans were headed in the right direction. This unexpected role of parenthood had taken both by surprise. Everything about the process was new, different, and a first for them. Their daughter never failed to find the laughter, the kindness, the joy in life and having two parents devoted to her every breath was to much too for one small child. Sara asked her husband for another baby which had turned out to be twins—who arrived months after Eli came to live with them.

She smiled as her eyes moved to the others in the bed.

Eli snuggled against her husband whose large hand lay lightly across the boy's chest; the other hand holding a children's book. The little boy they had taken into their home at his mother's request was Warrick Brown's son. He had not one gene of either parent yet Eli belonged to them as much as Bizzy or the two babies asleep in the next room. Sara had taken this child as her own the night he arrived in her home. He was easy to love—while her own daughter was the center of laughter; Eli was the intelligent, soft-spoken foundation of imagination in her household. The loveable, good-natured personalities of Bizzy and Eli made parenting easy.

A year ago, she noticed that Eli would pinch his nose as he thought—a familiar motion of Gil Grissom. He looked so much like his biological father, yet he was developing the habits of the man who took his place. Today, while at the beach, the two would bend in identical poses to examine some treasure.

Sara sighed, a deep, contented breathe of life.

Her husband's hand came to rest on her shoulder. "There's an empty bed in the other room," he whispered.

She nodded and both slipped from the bed and two sleeping children. She watched as both stretched and repositioned in warm spaces.

In the second room, she watched as Grissom dropped lightweight blankets over each sleeping child. They were safely caged in cribs wedged into a corner of the room and, in sleep, appeared as cherubs in a Raphael painting.

The two little girls, with blonde curls, blue eyes, chubby arms and legs, were so obviously the daughters of their father that Sara often asked how she gave birth to little female clones. Before they walked, each could mimic his raised eyebrow, present a scowl that mirrored his, or give an enigmatic smile. In one way, she knew the girls were hers—a quick temper, a stomp of a foot, a pout; a fury passion that would lead to trouble unless tamed. Grissom said they got a "double dose of stubbornness" as he lifted his own brow with an expression of his self-satisfaction. The agreeable natures of the two older children were such contrasts to the two babies. She and Grissom had learned to laugh as the two older children attempted to lead and control the younger girls.

Her husband stood from his bended crouch. "They are down and out—all that fresh air." Grissom grunted as he straightened and placed an arm around Sara. "Are you sure you want another one?" He asked.

He knew her answer. She stepped out of her pants, a smile on her face. "Get ready—I've decided today's the day!" She whispered with a sensual smile. "Everyone's asleep so get naked!"

His hand reached to the elastic on her purple panties. "I like these."

In mid-afternoon, the sun high in a clear sky and the distant sounds of surf drifting in open windows, Sara and Gil made quiet love to each other. Sounds were almost whispers as hands found familiar places of pleasure, smiles became gasps of desire, and these two knew they belonged together. He could build hunger, desire, a strong wanting of pleasure with touches to her skin.

For Sara, having the one person she had loved with a scorched-earth intensity return her passion, made her love more—her husband, her children, everyone and everything that touched her knew they were loved.

She whispered, "Gil."

His breath caught as he tumbled into her, helpless, end over end, physically and mentally, giving over to her, the feel, the emotion, the ultimate physical act of intimacy of being with the woman he loved. He kept her within his arms; her long legs wrapped around his as his foot caressed her calf.

"You are beautiful, Sara."

He felt her smile against his shoulder. She named this time "more intimate than sex" when they would lie together, skin-to-skin, legs and arms wrapped together, exposed and vulnerable, and talk. As Gil listened his finger touched a small scar on her abdomen. She was talking about their morning, watching as their children played in the sand, at the edge of the surf.

"I never thought I would enjoy watching kids play—seeing them have this experience. Is it because they belong to us? They are no different from hundreds of other kids I've seen." Her brow wrinkled with a slight frown. "It is different when they are our kids." The frown disappeared as she smiled. "They are almost perfect."

Grissom's hand continued tracing along her body as she talked. She's too thin, he thought, as his finger curved along her hip and moved across her belly.

"I think they are perfect." He kissed her neck. "Just like their mother." He heard a quiet laugh.

_A/N: Thanks for reading--second chapter up soon._


	2. Chapter 2

**A Few Days with the Grissom Family: Chapter 2**

"My life has changed," she murmured.

His lips remained against her skin. "For better." He pulled her closer. "You and I have changed. We needed to change." He placed a kiss on her nose. "You need to rest. I'll check on dinner—make sure they know we want to eat early."

"Stay here. It's nice to hear the ocean. It's nice to have your undivided attention."

Grissom needed no further encouragement. He settled his head against her chin and in minutes he slept. Sara waited until he was asleep and reached for a stack of papers beside the bed. Her life had changed, taken a new direction in the years since she left Las Vegas. For months, she drifted in temporary research work which suited her at the time. After Grissom joined her, they volunteered for several projects until the pending arrival of a baby put them in one place. Grissom found it easy to become involved in entomology as a published author and local beekeeper; occasionally helping the local police department with a seminar or an insect-involved case. Sara found other interests.

The papers she read were her own—radiation physics—a topic so specialized that few people knew it existed. While teaching part-time at the local college, a publisher had sent her a list of subjects in development and when her eyes found this one, she remembered a term paper on a similar topic. This was the second draft of her work. She read and made notes and when finished, she remained in bed, content and relaxed and let her thoughts drift…

…Four months ago, in the midst of preparing dinner, intense pain in her abdomen caused Sara to stumble and fall in the kitchen. When her eyes focused, two faces were above hers.

"Eli, go get Daddy," Sara said as she tried to move before pain in her side caused her to grab her abdomen.

"Mommy hurt," Bizzy said as her small hand touched her mother's face.

Sara tried again to roll to her side; the small voice of her child causing her to attempt to hide the pain. "I'm okay. I just need Daddy." She watched Eli run out the door. The sharp stabbing pain worsened as she made an attempt to sit up. Her stomach contents reached the back of her throat and she fought back the urge to vomit. She swallowed. "Could you get me a towel, Bizzy?" The child ran to the cabinet and returned with a small kitchen towel. Sara pressed it to her mouth and slipped back to the floor. She heard her daughter's footsteps running away and returning.

Small hands tried to lift her head. She opened her eyes to find Bizzy with a pillow. Sara smiled. "Thank you, Sweetie." The child folded legs underneath her and took her mother's hand.

"Mommy is sick." She leaned over and pressed her lips to Sara's cheek. "Be better soon."

Another sharp pain shot through Sara's abdomen. She suppressed a groan as she pulled her knees upward. After two uncomplicated pregnancies, Sara knew this was not supposed to happen. She was barely five weeks—nothing should hurt like this.

Noise invaded the house as a door slammed and confused voices came to her. Sara tried to lift her head as Bizzy ran to meet those coming in; her voice joining the others. Sara recognized the female voice of one of the neighboring nuns and the high-pitched voices of her children.

Grissom was beside her in seconds. Concern and alarm etched across his face. His arms lifted her. She knew she would be fine—until pain hit her again.

"Sharp stabbing pain. I think I fainted."

He got her to bed, followed by two small children who crawled onto the bed beside her, their eyes wide with fear.

"Eli," said Grissom, "would you get a wet washcloth for Mom." Both children scrambled from the bed heading to the bathroom. "I'll call the doctor—thank you." He wiped Sara's face with a cold cloth. "You are white as a sheet."

She nodded. "I—I know I'm bleeding. Early miscarriage, I think."

In minutes he had Eli and Bizzy in the kitchen with promises of ice cream and cookies, returning to the bedroom with a phone to his ear. "Sister Marie is taking care of things—she's called the others." Sara curled into a ball as pain stabbed across her belly. After a brief conversation with a nurse, he said, "Hospital—ER. She thinks it may be an ectopic pregnancy." He began to wrap a sheet around her before she stopped him.

"I can walk, Gil. Just help me get to the bathroom first."

"Sara—we need to go—now—she stressed the need for speed."

"I'll walk. I don't want my kids to see me being carried to the car. Help me to the bathroom; let me change my clothes—clean underwear, that kind of thing."

Grissom knew not to argue. He did not add other details of the nurse's directions, snatches of "internal bleeding" and "impaired fertility" and "hysterectomy". He helped her change and held her up as she walked through the house.

Sara hugged each child, explaining to Eli and Bizzy that she needed some medicine to feel better, to help Sister Marie, to be very good. She collapsed in the car as Grissom latched her seatbelt.

"Childbirth is nothing compared to this," she whispered. They met the neighbors arriving who quickly understood the nature of the emergency and waved them on.

Hours later, Sara shivered trying to pull a blanket around her.

"You're awake." The reassuring voice of Grissom came to her as his hands tucked a blanket around her. "You are fine—you will be fine." She felt a moist cloth touch her lips. "You had surgery—laparoscopy—that removed the—the…"

She nodded, understanding his difficulty in completing his sentence. "Wrong place," she whispered, sounding raspy and realizing her throat hurt.

"Yeah." His hand brushed her face. "You are fine now—rest."

"Gil," she struggled to ask another question. "He didn't—I didn't have anything else removed?"

"No, no, Honey." He smiled. "Everything is fine. We can go home as soon as you feel better." She talked the doctor into discharging her that day.

It had taken weeks to recover; her strength ebbed away as low tide. For several days, her children sensed a need for quiet and talked in hushed voices until an afternoon nap turned into giggling play that spilled onto their parent's bed. When they saw their mother's smile, their subdued play erupted into the familiar sounds of their usual life.

Grissom worried and cared and hovered over his wife for days. Her neighbors brought food and bathed, fed, and played with the four children. Their housekeeper stayed longer than usual as a pale and shaken Sara slowly recuperated. Gradually, when she began to complain, those around her hoped she was recovering.

"It's worse than having twins," she told their housekeeper, Lilly.

She said to the neighbors, "I feel like I've been hit by a truck."

"Stop hovering, Gil. I can do this," she snapped at her husband as he attempted to help her one night. Seeing the expression on his face made her stop. "I'm sorry." She turned to him, and for the first time in days, she let him take care of her as she cried.

"It's grief, Sara. It's okay to feel this way," he told her in the darkness.

That night Sara resolved to step back from the dark edge of this void of melancholy that draped her thoughts and actions. In the days that followed, she ate more, napped with her children, laughed at their playful silliness, and made herself feel excitement in whatever they did. She joined Grissom as he worked in the garden and in his office. Days passed until one afternoon she realized she no longer felt the depression or sadness or sorrow of losing a baby that wasn't really a baby, just a part of her, a part of her husband, that would never be. The next day, she wished for a trip to the beach…

_A/N: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A Few Days with the Grissom Family Chapter 3**

…Movement and a tiny grunt from the corner brought Sara from daydreams to reality. She found her shirt, her underwear, and pants, and was almost dressed before the sound became a whimper. She lifted the baby from the crib.

"Hi, Annie," she whispered. The baby was warm and wiggly and instantly smiled at the sound of her mother's voice. Her tiny fist rubbed an eye as she put her head against Sara's shoulder. With her free hand, Sara covered the second sleeping child, picked up a juice box and a new diaper, and whispering into the baby's ear, opened the door to a small enclosed patio.

This was the child who worried Sara more than any of the others. At birth she weighed less than her sister, Ava. She was slow to crawl, last to walk. Grissom and the pediatrician insisted she was gradually catching up; a battery of testing showed she was "within normal range"—whatever that meant, Sara thought.

Annie was delighted to have her mother's full attention. A quick diaper change, a few sips of juice, and she was snuggled into the crook of Sara's arm as they walked in the enclosed garden patio filled with flowers. Sara said the color of each flower as she pointed to purple and pink and white blooms. Annie would bury her nose into each flower and gurgle and babble attempting to form a word.

This beachside motel had looked the same for over a decade, its doorways, windows, and patios overgrown with red bougainvillea, yellow jasmine, pink fuchsia, and geraniums in a rainbow of colors. It was the first place Gil Grissom had loved Sara Sidle; if she remembered correctly, it was a blue room that faced this same patio.

When she laughed, the baby looked at her with wide-eyed surprise. Sara explained, knowing none of what she said would be comprehended but getting a certain joy from telling the story of how she had ended up in this place for one long afternoon.

"I knew I loved your daddy that day," she explained. "And for days and weeks, even years, that passed, I would always think of that afternoon when he showed me that love was more than a song on a radio." Sara hummed an old song and slow danced around the patio holding the baby who giggled with her as they danced.

The two did not hear the door slide open as they were joined by Grissom and Annie's twin sister. "May we join this dance?" He said as an arm went around Sara. The toddlers played as their parents moved together. "You are happy."

As an answer, she kissed him. Annie and Ave giggled and ran back and forth across the white patio stones; within minutes Eli joined them and Sara and Gil braded yellow star jasmine and geraniums into wreaths to wear in their hair.

"Do boys wear flowers?" Eli asked as Sara wove flowers and leaves together.

She laughed. "Yes, they do. And we'll put purple clematis in yours." He grinned as she placed the wreath atop his head. She got to her feet. "I'll wake Bizzy—she's slept long enough."

Grissom nodded as he worked with stems and flowers trying to figure out how Sara had completed three little circles while he worked on one.

Inside the room, Sara found an empty bed where her daughter should have been sleeping. She checked the bathroom, finding it empty as well. The second bed, each crib, the second bathroom—all empty. She knew the child had to be in the two rooms. She glanced at the patio seeing three children and Grissom. No Bizzy.

"Bizzy, where are you?" She called, keeping her voice low, but an uneasiness creeping into her mind. She checked the door—locked with a deadbolt and returned to the beds again, looking underneath each. She opened the small closet, finding nothing but their clothes. The kitchen cabinets were filled with pans and plates, but no child.

How could a child disappear from a locked room? Her thoughts did not want to go there. Bizzy had to be in the two rooms. She stood at the foot of the bed before impulse made her pull covers back and smooth them across the bed. She found a crumpled gum wrapper and smiled at the recollection of a shopping spree with four children in a convenience store.

Again, she checked outside seeing only three children. One more quick look before she called Grissom, she thought. This time, slower, she searched the cabinets, the bathrooms, underneath each bed—knowing she would find nothing. She would not panic—the child had to be here.

Her hand touched the door separating the two rooms as she realized the open door made a small triangle of space behind it. She pulled and had found her sleeping daughter.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**_ Of course, we own nothing--you know this. We are away for a couple of days; will post the next chapter Sunday._

**A Few Days with GF Chapter 4**

The child's dark hair covered her face and Sara brushed curls back as she knelt to pick her up. Bizzy's lips were blue—bright blue.

"Sweetie, why are you out of bed?" Sara held the child as she gradually woke up. Sara noticed the same blue color on her fingertips. Bizzy blinked her eyes and crawled into her mother's arms. "Everyone is outside; are you ready to play?" Sara's hand combed through curls. A lump in the dark hair caused her to stop. "What's this?"

Suddenly, a sob came from her daughter. Sara's fingers explored the hair surrounding a lump of blue.

"I chewed all my gum." Between sobs and hiccups, tears ran down Bizzy's face.

"And some of it got in your hair, didn't it."

The little girl nodded. "It won't come out." The downward turn of the child's mouth was one of genetic familiarity.

Sara's relief at finding the child was so intense that she almost laughed. "We can get it out." Her daughter's words explained the tangled knot. "Why were you behind the door?"

The child sniffles stopped for a few seconds as some thought process was occurring. "Didn't want you to see it," she mumbled.

Sara hugged her close. "Oh, Sweetie, it's only gum—we can get it out." She kissed Bizzy's forehead. "Let's go outside with the others. We'll put a flower in your hair."

Little fingers wiped tears from her eyes and cheeks. "Mommy, can I get more gum?"

Sara could laugh now. "I am sure you can get more gum." She fingered the knot. Scissors would solve this problem. She hugged her daughter again, longer, tighter, until the child wiggled from her arms, happy again.

Bizzy got the flower circle her father had made; it was fragile and lopsided but no one cared as the children found a dozen ways to play, including climbing over their parents and sharing a tent made from an old sheet and two chairs. Grissom disappeared and returned with dinner and the sheet became their tablecloth as the family ate outside, sitting on the patio. This was a holiday—a special time when they got to eat food prepared by someone else and got to tumble around on the patio as they ate and their parents watched and laughed.

Two more days spent at the beach melted into sun blushed faces, minnows in paper cups, tiny shells picked up and handled as delicate treasures, and sand covered bodies. Gum was cut from hair. Zinc covered freckled noses and shoulders and by sundown each day, four little children were almost asleep by the time they ate their dinner.

Sara and Gil sat on the small deck in the dark. "I love the ocean—I love the beach," Sara said as she reclined in a padded chair.

"We'll come back." A chuckled came from Grissom. "It is fun to watch the kids discover new things. I never thought about this—would not have believed I could spend hours being amazed by picking up shells and catching minnows."

Sara's quiet laughter in his ear made him realize she was thinking of adult activities instead of child's play. She whispered, "Let's go to bed—it's quiet, kids are asleep. I think I know something we can do that's almost as much fun," her voice sultry and passion edged.

They moved inside, checking doors and windows, covering children with blankets. Grissom opened one window and breathed in the ocean air, the smell of flowers; he felt Sara's arms circle his chest. He turned.

They needed no words. Gently, he took her face, closing his eyes, kissing her cheek. He felt her hand on his hair. He loved the long, slender fingers and how she would wrap the curls of his hair around her fingertips. He brought her hand to his lips.

"I love you, Sara." His hands moved across her face, down her neck. "Have you ever noticed how each part of you blends and rhymes—the same shape, slender neck, your arms, long legs. You are beautiful." He saw her smile, her teeth reflecting moonlight.

He kissed her again and she returned with searching lips until her head rested against his shoulder. He smelled the delicious scent of her hair, her skin. He knew this woman loved him. She took his hand and, soundlessly, they walked across the room to the bed. He let Sara draw him to her, her caressing hands pulling them closer together. Neither words nor thoughts were needed as they stretched across the bed. He knew the simple, healthy beauty of her body, felt it grow warm and filled with desire. His own body responded as passion turned to fire and flowed through him. He followed delicate shadows with eyes and lips, felt Sara's body tremble when he rolled above her, and he reached for bedcovers and wrapped them in a cocoon of whiteness.

"You are cold," he whispered.

Softly, her words were in his ear. "I'm not cold. I have you." She moved her hips to meet his. He never tired of this—the way her body fit into his, two well formed pieces of a puzzle. Every fiber of his body responded to her. An intake of air, a press of fingertips on his shoulder, told him she was reaching that moment of feminine explosion. His head dropped against her neck as his body lifted and plunged as he fell into that whirlpool of warm, inviting waves; his strength evaporated and he knew this woman had been made for him.

_Thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

**A Few Days with GF Chapter 5**

They returned home the next day, exhausted yet rested, welcomed by a lonesome Hank who had remained with the women at the neighboring farm. Eli lined seashells along a window, Sara trimmed Bizzy's hair to hide the missing curls lost to gum, and Ava and Annie followed Grissom as he unloaded the van. They giggled when he poured sand into their hands from a shoe and when he found a wilted and tattered wreath of flowers, both looked puzzled by its appearance.

Sara found them later, sitting in grass as he tied and twisted flowers together for a new wreath to wear in their hair. She smiled at his sheepish look—he had stopped unloading to make two circlets of flowers. The girls danced and twirled around them falling down from dizziness.

Annie reached for a flower in her dad's hand. "Purple," she said as she held it out to her mother. Sara smiled—her little girl had not only remembered the word, but said it. Grissom grinned; he knew Sara worried about their smallest daughter.

A week later, Sara handed him a slim pencil shaped object. "I can't look," she said.

Grissom put down the paper he was reading, waving a hand for her to come to him. He took her hand. "Sit with me, Sara." From the sofa, he could see Eli playing with small trucks and cars using books and magazines for imagined streets. The three girls were across the room chattering as they played with a ménage of toys dumped from a basket. He took the white stick and tossed it to his desk.

"You won't look at it?" She frowned.

He wrapped his arm around her. "No."

"I may be."

Grissom kissed her mouth. "Your daughter gives me that same look."

She laughed knowing he was right.

"Call your doctor. Get lab work done. Don't wait," he said as Sara relaxed against his chest. "Honey, don't obsess over this. Look at these four—could life get any better?" One of the curly blonde heads turned in their direction. When she saw both parents together, she ran to them. Within minutes all four children were on the sofa, giggling, crawling over each other in tumbling play…

…Sara's hand searched the bed for a warm body. She knew the reading light was on without opening her eyes because of the low hum she heard.

"Where are you?" She opened one eye.

"Here," her husband said as he closed the book and removed his glasses.

She slept all the time—going to bed when her children did, sleeping late every morning. She was pregnant.

"What time is it?" She asked.

"Only ten." He chuckled. "You've had a two hour nap."

"I'm hungry."

He grinned. Not only did she sleep with pregnancy, she ate. The thinness was gone and graceful curves developed. He loved her curves. "I'll get you something—yogurt?"

By now she was fully awake and scooted across the middle of the bed. "Let's do something else." She tugged him down to meet her.

This was another part of her he loved. Sleepy, hungry, and—he thought of a slang word—"Pregnancy makes you sleep, eat, and want me." He slipped beside her burying his head against her long neck, smelling her fragrance. "I love this."

Sara giggled. "It's the hormones." She laughed—a deep delightful sound of genuine glee. "That's a lie. I've wanted you from the first moment my eyes saw you. I knew then you were the one man I would love the rest of my life."

"Are you certain?" His hands roamed underneath the short shirt she wore.

"Mmmm—positive. One look at you and I knew." Her fingertips traced his jaw, moved lightly across his lips.

Grissom laugh, the sound low and husky, warmed by happiness. He rolled to his back and brought her to his chest. She framed his face with her hands and kissed him, deeply, bringing a groan from his lungs. His hands moved along her back, tracing along her hip to her thighs.

She kissed his chin, the depression at his throat, tasting him as she moved to his chest. She sought pleasure from him, knowing what he needed, what he wanted. She felt his fingers clench her hair as another groan mumbled from his chest.

"Enough," he whispered, pulling her upward. He caressed her in those intimate areas only a lover knows, watching her face.

When she thought she was diving into an explosion of desire, he clamped hands around her, rolled and was inside her. She heard her own sound as waves of pleasure cascaded through her body. Long moments passed before either could summon up a coherent thought.

She used her lips and teeth to tease him from a drowsy contented state. "Yogurt, please. Maybe some nuts and those crackers you brought home."


	6. Chapter 6

**A Few Days with GH Chapter 6**

…Seven months pregnant and Sara looked as if she had swallowed a round ball. Her housekeeper came every day now. Sara knew this would be her last pregnancy; fatigue and her biological clock had sapped her energy and strength. She would have Grissom's son—this little boy would be the image of his father. Grissom laughed at her steadfast insistence that their son would look like him; she pointed to the two little girls who resembled him and smirked. She had known from the first week that she would have a boy—calling him Gilbert from her first test.

When all the testing was completed and showed a healthy male baby, she did not hide her delight. Her four children's excitement about another brother mirrored her own. Her husband would pretend to be unruffled by this event, but she knew he was as pleased—except when she called the baby Gilbert.

"Not Gilbert." He was adamant.

Eli was sitting at the desk with him when he repeated this remark. "Can we name him after me?" He asked.

Sara smiled as she asked, "What would we call him? We can't have two Eli's."

The boy put his chin in his palm. "I like William. We can call him Will Grissom."

Sara looked at Grissom. He looked at her. He said, "William Grissom. That's a good name, Eli."

Sara wrote the name on a piece of paper. She added a middle name and passed it to Grissom. "Eli," she said, "I think you've just named your brother." She patted her belly. "Will Grissom—I like that."

A week later, her routine check-up disrupted life as it had been. Sara watched the monitor as the technician, the physician, and a nurse studied the image.

The doctor's finger traced an area on the screen. "Sara, your baby is fine, but there is a problem." Her finger circled an area. "This is your placenta and it has attached to the wall of your uterus in an abnormal way—it's called placenta accreta." The physician had delivered her three other children. "Baby Grissom is fine, but it means bed rest for mom."

"Bed rest? What does that mean? I've never heard of accreta."

The doctor turned back to the screen, showing and explaining to her the excessive growth into the uterus by the placenta. "It has invaded the first layer of the uterus—hopefully, that's where it will stop. The worst event would be pre-mature delivery, and an unplanned C-section with a hysterectomy. We will plan—manage conservatively; put you to bed, keep the baby growing."

Tears had formed in Sara's eyes, pooled and ran down her face. The nurse passed tissues to her.

"This is something that is unusual, but it can be treated once diagnosed—we know what to do and it's not a surprise at delivery." The doctor explained. "Did your husband come with you?"

Sara shook her head.

"Let's get you dressed and we'll go over what you need to do. Do you still have help at home?"

Sara nodded. She seemed unable to speak.

The physician asked, "The girls are well? I saw the twins one day with their father. Are they as sweet as they look?"

Sara nodded again. "Bed rest. Will it be for another two months?"

"Get dressed. We will talk—you can call your husband so he can hear about this at the same time."

Sara got home in a daze. Grissom met her as she got out of the car.

"Four hours a day, Gil. I can be out of bed for four hours," she said as tears filled her eyes. She handed him a packet of papers as he embraced her.

"Don't cry—everything will be fine." He chuckled. "You've been sleeping more than you've ever slept. We'll get through this—time will fly by."

Days slowed to a snail's pace with an occasional breakout into chaos; shoes on the wrong person, a missing toy, hair clips lost, favorite pajamas left in the washing machine at bedtime. By the third day, everyone in the house was short-tempered or irritable or cranky. Lilly, the normally patient housekeeper, realized there was too much work for one person. Eli responded to his mother's bed ridden state by camping at the foot of her bed, grumbling when his sisters wanted to join him. Bizzy followed her dad so closely he stumbled over her more than once as he tried to get things done. Ava and Annie were confused; their mother could not pick them up, she stayed in bed nearly all day and their solution to this situation was to cry.

Grissom stifled a growing sense of panic. Sara was the household organizer, the financial planner, the family manager. For three days, he and the housekeeper held things together—sort of. The children were dressed, bathed, and fed. He had forgotten about a group coming to look at his beehives until they arrived just after Lilly had gone for groceries and the toast he left in the oven burned and set off the smoke alarm.

_A/N: This one will be 10-12 chapters. Thanks for reading! Another one later today._


	7. Chapter 7

**A Few Days with GF Chapter 7**

The group, arriving in a chartered bus, had traveled nearly three hours to see his work with bees, his flowers, and his hives. He went to the door wearing a stained shirt, a toddler in his arms, another crying at his knee, and a sad, pouting little girl following him to the porch. The smoke alarm continued its high pitched squeal. Momentary confusion and disbelief that he had forgotten their appointment made for an awkward silence as the men and women congregated around his porch.

The smoke alarm had gotten Sara out of bed. She opened the back door to clear smoke as soon as she turned off the oven. Eli followed her to the front door.

"Bizzy, come with me, sweetie." She held out a hand. "Ava, let go of Daddy and come with me." She smiled at the strangers on the porch. "Welcome to the Grissom circus. He'll be with you as soon as he changes his shirt and turns off the smoke alarm." Everyone laughed.

Calm and quiet settled around Sara and the four children when she stretched across the floor of the playroom. "Eli, get us a favorite book—one everyone will like."

Grissom stood in the doorway with a clean shirt. "I—I forgot." He shrugged and looked embarrassed.

She laughed and waved her hand. "Go. We'll be fine."

By the time the visitors left, Lilly had returned, children were fed, and Sara had called their neighbors…

"You should have called us immediately," the older nun said after Sara had explained her state from a prone position on the sofa.

This woman had known Sara longer than anyone in the room. Years ago, Sister Deborah had arranged for Laura Sidle to live at the community farm, had welcomed Sara as a daughter, and, when Grissom wanted to buy the neighboring house, she had played a major role in making it happen.

"You, Gil, these children are family to us—tell us—let us help you." The nun looked at the two parents—exhaustion, frustration, and fear apparent on their faces. "Are either of you getting any rest?" She laughed quietly. "We'll take the children for the day—you two rest and plan. This is a serious complication but we can help." She turned to the second woman who had arrived with her. "Let's take everyone back to our place and let these two get some rest."

Within minutes, the house was quiet. Grissom remained in the chair he had pulled next to the sofa. "We can get through this, honey."

"I'll go nuts, Gil. I can't stand the thought of staying inside for a day much less for weeks. I have to get my mind around this—Eli starts kindergarten in a month." She wiped her eyes. "You have a seminar next week. Annie and Ave want to be picked up. Bizzy is just lost—even going with Sister Deborah—she looks so sad."

He stood, extending his hand. "Come with me. We rest, and then we'll think of what we are going to do."

The following week was one of daily adjustments.

One of the nuns arrived early each morning with eggs and muffins for breakfast. She left after breakfast taking at least one child with her.

The housekeeper managed to keep clothes clean, shopped and prepared food for lunch and dinner, cleaned, and attempted to keep one child with her.

Grissom wandered from room to room, worried, anxious, asking a hundred times a day if Sara needed anything. Eli or Bizzy followed him until his agitation sent them to hide in another room or crawl in bed with their mother.

Sara rested—or said she rested. She usually had one or two children in bed with her. She read every book in the playroom bookcase to whoever was in bed—often reading the same story several times a day. She counted minutes until she could get up to shower or to eat or to move to the sofa. By mid-week, she ordered Grissom out of the house. He was gone for fifteen minutes and she was bored to tears.

The second week, the Grissom household had turned into confused turmoil. The novelty of visiting the neighboring women was gone. The children resisted, squabbled, and cried from the time each one woke. Grissom was baffled, feeling helpless and frustrated. His family had always been one of laughter, harmony, and playful children.

No longer. His children were unhappy, on the verge of tears all day. His wife was miserable, almost in tears. He was unhappy and miserable pretending to be otherwise. On a beautiful day, they should be outside playing in the sun and he would be working in his garden. Instead, Sara and the four children were sleeping in their bed—the only time anyone was happy. As soon as everyone woke up, as soon as he heated dinner, the peace and quiet would end.

He needed control; his children needed supervision and guidance. His wife needed rest. His hand wiped across his face. Sara made it look easy. He pulse pounded at his temple and he knew his blood pressure was up. He did not want to think about Sara's blood pressure as she stayed in bed hearing the cries of her babies.

In five years, he had not given much thought to running a house, and even less thought to the care of four young children. Everything was done; everyone was happy. An occasional disagreement, a scraped knee, a lost toy happened, but no one cried for long, no one moped beside the bed, no one refused to eat. No one threw a temper tantrum—as he had witnessed this morning—when Ava's blood curdling screams had gotten Sara out of bed and sent Hank into the corner.

And always foremost in his thoughts was Sara's condition. This was serious. He had read a dozen medical reports and it terrified him.

He walked to the bedroom. The kids were curled around their mother; one hugging her back, another snuggled against her belly. Eli and Bizzy were stretched across the head of the bed, a closed book under one arm, Eli's hand on Sara's face. Bizzy's face lay next to her mother's; seeing both asleep, he realized again how similar the two faces were.

With a sudden realization, Grissom knew the solution to their dilemma—or at least part of a solution. He headed back to his office, taking out pencil and paper and drawing a simple diagram. He made several phone calls. His gloominess lifted and by the time he reheated dinner, he was smiling and planning a surprise. He found a picnic tablecloth and spread it across the floor of the play room. By the time his wife and children woke, he had arranged pillows on the floor and placed plates and food for an unexpected indoor picnic on the cloth.

He had an audience as he put finishing touches around—extra pillows for Sara, kitchen towels as napkins, and a cookie in the center of each plate.

"Find your place," he announced as he helped Sara to the floor. "Mom can eat lying down and so can we." He stretched beside Sara, on his stomach, using his elbow as a prop. Eli giggled first and positioned himself exactly as Grissom had done. The three girls begin to giggle with their brother and tumbled over pillows, to find a place. It was the first laughter Grissom had heard in days. In minutes, Sara was laughing as she spooned macaroni on a plate.

"How much?" She asked.

"Lots!" Eli said. She heard a cascading chime of voices saying the same thing.

For the first time in nearly two weeks, everyone ate without the sad look of bewilderment on faces.


	8. Chapter 8

**A Few Days with the Grissoms Chapter 8**

The next morning, men arrived in trucks at the same time the neighboring nuns came with breakfast. Grissom met all of them outside and swore them to this secret project. By the time the children were awake, fed, and dressed, they also knew about a secret. For them, a secret was enough excitement to cause happiness.

Bizzy found her mother resting in bed. "We have a secret!" She exclaimed.

Sara knew something was happening when Grissom was out of bed at dawn. "Am I supposed to know about the secret?" Sara asked.

"It's for you—and us. Daddy said you would really have a surprise."

"Are you supposed to tell me?"

Confusion clouded the little girl's face and then she smiled. "It's really big. Men came in big trucks with a ladder." Bizzy held her hands above her head and stretched on her tiptoes. "The ladder is this tall—only taller. And Sister Deborah was laughing."

Sara could hear some kind of construction work being done. "Is Daddy helping with this?"

Bizzy nodded. "We are watchers." She danced around the room before disappearing.

Sara went back to reading a novel. Whatever Grissom was doing had changed the mood—even if it lasted only a day.

A few hours later, Sister Deborah appeared in the doorway with a package. "For you!"

The older woman watched as Sara unwrapped a stack of paper.

"It's my physics project—I've been working on it for three years." Sara unfolded a letter. Her face fell and she sighed. "This publisher isn't interested in a subject this specialized."

Sister Deborah laughed, "All physics is way too specialized for me." She took the package from Sara. "How many rejections?"

Sara counted the publishers, "And I have not heard from three others. It's a long process—and the chances are slim."

Lunch was delivered to the bedroom. "We have a secret!" Eli and Bizzy were still excited, causing their sisters to be in the same good humor. Grissom jokingly warned them not to tell anything.

"Remember it's a secret!" Clearing away lunch, he whispered to Sara, "Your surprise will be ready later today."

Sara could only imagine what was happening. Men's voices, hammers and saws had taken over her house. The sawdust in Eli's hair was enough to let her know the condition of her house. Ava and Annie had brought small pieces of wood with them at naptime. Each piece had been sanded smooth—Grissom's work, Sara knew.

Late in the afternoon, an eager Eli and Bizzy escorted their mother to the playroom. Toy baskets were stacked in a corner, a bookcase had been moved, and against the wall was a low platform, a rectangle the size of a bed and covered with a thick pad.

The children were jumping with excitement, four voices clamoring as one as she sat on the bed and then lay down on it.

"Perfect!"

Annie was the first to show her a special feature—toe holes on the end—as the toddler climbed onto the bed.

"Annie and Ava need steps, but I don't," Eli said as he boosted himself up. "But we can't play," he stressed the word as he looked at his sisters; "we have to rest and be careful."

Grissom was smiling. "One more—let's show her the second surprise."

In seconds, the children were running to the porch, door slamming as they left.

"This is the best one. The workmen are still here; so are Lilly and Sister Deborah." He wrapped an arm around Sara. "They want to see your face." He was obviously pleased with the project.

"What have you done? The bed in the playroom is great—what else?"

He chuckled. "Anything for peace and tranquility back in our lives." He opened the door.

A half-dozen men, the housekeeper, and two neighbors were gathered at the end of the porch. The parted as Sara and Grissom came out the door. It took Sara a few seconds to realize what had taken place on her porch.


	9. Chapter 9

**A Few Days with the Grissoms Chapter 9**

Where there had been chairs and children's toys was a bed unlike any Sara had ever seen—attached with four long ropes to the ceiling making a swinging bed. On the porch. Covered with an old quilt. A safety rail around three sides. Big enough for her and four children, and maybe a husband.

Eli stood at one corner, a beaming smile across his face. The workmen, Grissom, and several women from next door gathered around as she inspected this unusual creation. Three little girls danced and ran around the porch.

"We kept a secret!" Bizzy giggled. "We didn't tell, did we?"

One of the workman said, "We've never done this but it's strong, built to last." He tugged on a rope. "We used marine stuff—anchor rope—attached to rafters. It should hold a thousand pounds, easy."

She sat on the bed. Eli jumped up beside her. "It's the greatest thing and Dad thought of it all by himself." He crawled to the center making the bed sway.

"Up! Up!" Annie said, stretching arms skyward.

The same workman knelt beside the baby. "Here—put your foot right here and hold on to the rope." He showed her the wedge shaped foothold. Annie's face radiated with a wide smile. As soon as she reached the top, her sister followed.

Grissom picked up Bizzy and placed her with the others. Everyone smiled. "Remember, what do we do on this bed? Just like the one in the playroom?" He asked.

"We rest," said Eli.

"Be careful," Bizzy said.

The twins were rolling around giggling.

Sara sniffed. "Hormones," she said.

All the adults laughed.

…Two weeks later, the entire family filled the van. They stopped for Sister Deborah. Sara's four hours would be spent taking Eli to his first day of school. His sisters were as excited as he was. They had already toured the school, met his teacher, found his classroom, but today, all the classrooms would be filled with students. Parents and families had been invited to kindergarten rooms as each child introduced himself to others.

A pretty teacher showed Eli to his table with four other boys. Adults and smaller children stood around the walls as the teacher gave her welcome speech. "Now, we will have each child come forward and tell something about himself and his family."

The Grissoms listened and applauded as each child finished speaking, some saying their name and pointing to parents; others giving much more information, getting laughs from parents. Finally, it was Eli's turn.

"My name is Eli Grissom," he said. "My dad is Gil Grissom and my mom is Sara Grissom." He pointed to his parents. "Those girls are my sisters—Bizzy—really her name is Elizabeth, but we call her Bizzy, and Annie and Ava. And my mom is going to have me a brother soon." His hand made a quick motion across his abdomen and he grinned. Everyone thought he had finished, but he held up his hand just before Sara started to clap. "I guess you noticed I don't look like my real parents and that's because I'm adopted. That means my mother didn't have me, but she chose me to be her son." His face broke into a wide grin and he waved at his parents.

They were not the first to applaud his words, and Sara knew the other parents clapped a little bit longer and louder because she was wiping tears from her eyes.

"Hormones," she whispered as she felt Grissom's arm around her shoulders and felt his warm breath against her neck.

…Two more weeks passed and time had not flown by; it had slowed to a crawl, minutes drawn out to unbearable stretches of time for Sara. But her children were happy. Four places to rest had opened up more places to play, more time they could hear and see their mother as she stayed on her back or on her side. Sara read scientific journals, romance novels, children's books; she searched the internet for "stuff"—some serious and some silliness just to laugh. She shortened her shower so she could walk outside at least once a day. Four hours on her feet passed too quickly—meals took up a major portion of her "up time" since she refused to eat in bed. Once a week, Grissom drove her to her doctor's appointment and the only good news was their son was growing. She remained on bed rest. Her problem was not going away.

Her physician explained the image on the sonogram. "We could do a MRI but it will not tell us more than what we are seeing here," She pointed to an area along the uterine wall. "The placenta is making deep attachments—not outside the uterus yet." She turned to Sara, glancing at Grissom as she spoke. "You need to decide on several things. There is no doubt this will be a planned Caesarean—let's say in two weeks. We can immediately give you some strong drugs which will slow bleeding, give us time to attempt to cut away the placenta. It usually works with minimal blood loss. There are risks—it may not work at all. If we do this, you will have to take the drugs for several days. The medication has side effects and a woman can not breast feed.

"Your other option is to let us remove the uterus—we can leave the ovaries—so you do not go through menopause. We literally lift the baby out still in the uterus. There is little chance of excessive bleeding; you go home in a few days. You don't need the medication. The procedure is very similar to any Caesarean, but we take the uterus at the same time. This is the safest option, I think, but a woman loses the ability to have other children." The physician flipped through Sara's chart. "We don't need to make a decision today. Go home, think about this. Set a date and call me."

_A/N: Thanks for reading and the reviews! Keep reading, another 3 chapters to go!_


	10. Chapter 10

**A Few Days with GF Chapter 10**

By the time the two returned home, two older nuns, good-natured, laughing women, had fed, bathed, and read to four little children. Grissom brought ice cream as a treat before bedtime. Sara settled on the sofa and related the physician's explanation of her condition to the women while children chattered and ate with their dad.

"I don't know that I am capable of making a decision," she said.

The older nun came to her side. "Yes, you can. Do what is necessary for your own health, Sara. Your baby is fine. We will be here to take care of everything else." She combed Sara's hair away from her face. "We'll get the kids to sleep; you and Grissom go to the porch."

The porch bed had proven to be a creative place for children and adults. Sara had spent hours on it as she watched her children play. They had returned to their happy, playful temperaments, rarely disagreeing with each other, never straying far from the porch. It was easy for one to crawl onto the bed and snuggle next to Sara, and after one came, the second one arrived, and all four would end up beside her. Even Grissom joined them on the swaying bed, letting the giggling gang crawl over him as he pretended to nap.

If truth were known, Grissom's favorite time on this specially designed bed was when he could be alone with Sara. They would tuck children into beds—Sara saved her last upright time for bedtime, touching each child in the few minutes before sleep came. Grissom knew this was important to her.

Tonight, their neighbors, whose presence in the house was almost constant now, would cuddle and rock and read to the children until sleep closed their eyes. The women would quietly leave by the back door so they would not disturb the couple on the porch.

"We have good neighbors," Sara said quietly as she laid her head on Gil's chest.

He was propped on multiple pillows one arm behind his head. "Have you thought about what to do?" He had worried for weeks; he did not want to make this decision.

"I've read everything about this, Gil. It's—the safest way to do this is to have the uterus taken out." She lifted her head. "It sounds like an amazing procedure—just wish it was not me." She sighed. "I'll have my little Will, Eli gets a brother."

Grissom's lips touched her hair. "I love you, Sara."

…She set a date, talked with her doctor, made plans with her neighbors. She called one good friend. For a change, time passed swiftly.

"Greg is coming."

Grissom smiled. He had already gotten an email from Greg.

"You knew! Did he tell you I asked him to come?"

He nodded. "I knew you would invite him. The kids love him and he can drive Eli to school. Show and tell with Greg—that should keep everyone entertained."

Grissom still thought of Greg as a smart young kid in the lab and often forgot how many years had passed since that time.

Sara rolled to her side. "You know Greg is almost the same age as you were when we met." She watched as his eyes grew wide. "Yes, he is."

A gruff grunt came from Grissom. "He needs to settle down, start a family."

She snickered. "Yeah, like someone else we know so well." She poked a finger into his ribs to make sure he understood who she was talking about.

…Greg Sanders entering the Grissom home created a minor tsunami as this tidal wave of his laughter and squeals of delight from four children rolled from the porch throughout the house. Sara heard it begin from the bedroom.

With Greg came entertainment as he relived childhood jokes, toys, and stories; the uncle every child needs as he pulled presents from his bag and candy from his pockets—not the little pieces of candy their parent let them have, but huge candy bars and giant packages of sweet stuff. He put a pink glitter jeweled crown on Eli's head and acted confused as the girls laughed at his mistake.

"That's for a girl!" Bizzy said between giggles.

Greg reached into his bag. "Does this mean Eli gets this?" He tossed a large bag of marshmallows in the air catching it before it landed.

The questioning looks on four faces became more confused as he pulled another object out—a long clear hollow tube with an assortment of odd attachments. The children were silent, round mouths and wide eyes watching as he opened the bag of colored marshmallows and dropped one into the tube.

"Watch this," he said right before his mouth covered an opening and he blew. The small marshmallow was lost as it flew across the room amid the ensuing excitement of not one, but four identical shooters were passed into little hands.

Annie ate the first handful as her attempts to blow into the tube turned the small sweet confections into slobbery, spit covered blobs of sticky goo. Greg wiped her mouth and her shooter as he was pelted with flying marshmallows from three others. With shouts of glee, he scooted behind a chair with Annie and they tossed the soft puffed sweets back to the shooters.

"I don't even want to know what's going on," Sara said from her bed.

"Neither do I." Grissom said. He had picked Greg up at the airport and given him a detailed account of Sara's condition. He had not needed to include his own agonizing fear.

Greg had also read all he could on Sara's condition. "What's she going to do?" He asked.

"Caesarean hysterectomy. She decided it was the safest procedure—less bleeding, less chance of a lot of things."

"I read where this happens and no one knows until delivery—blood loss can be tremendous, the mother can die..." he stopped in mid-sentence as he suddenly realized the implications of what he said. "Sorry."

"I've read it all, Greg." He chuckled in an unfunny way. "Sara thinks it will be an interesting procedure to watch. They will actually remove the uterus with the baby inside, then make the incision to take the baby."

"You going in?"

"Yeah."

Nothing else was said about the event scheduled for two days.

Sara, her housekeeper, and two neighbors had made lists for everything. Greg was there for distraction—he knew his job—amuse four young children with enough activity so they did not miss their parents. Much.


	11. Chapter 11

**A Few Days with the Grissoms Chapter 11**

…This was a new experience for them—Sara had not scheduled previous deliveries. This one was planned to the minute. No hurrying into the hospital, no labor pains, no quick shower with Grissom pacing the floor, no panic to get children to the neighbors—a suitcase was packed, she had taken a long bath, and her children were happy and laughing at their Uncle Greg's plans for the day. The housekeeper had arrived early and the neighboring nuns even earlier. Greg had already ingratiated himself into the graces of these women who would feed, dress, and keep a semblance of order in her children for the next few days.

The staff at the hospital welcomed them as old friends. Admission paperwork was ready, a wheelchair took Sara to a bright room and, before she could change into a hospital gown, her doctor appeared.

"The day is finally here—are you ready?" The woman looked at Grissom as she asked her question. She knew Sara was prepared. He responded by holding up his own package of hospital clothing.

"I am. At this point, I'm an observer."

She went over the procedure; information already studied and signed by Sara. The physician ticked off a checklist. "Without complications and I expect none, we should be able to use the regional anesthesia. You'll be awake for everything—you will get to hold little William as soon as he's born."

Sara's first surprise was the number of people in the surgical room. In previous deliveries, there had been a couple of nurses, the doctor, Grissom in a quiet room. Today, a dozen people checked equipment, all dressed in the sterile green or blue scrubs. The anesthesiologist sat at her head; at least one other physician was in the room. Sara lost count of who was doing what. Grissom rolled his stool to her left so she could see him and within minutes, she was draped and shielded from whatever was going to happen to her abdomen. Monitors beeped with her heart rate and the baby's.

She heard the physician's soft words of direction and time seemed to stop as the room grew quiet except for the machines and the soft wisp of gloves and fabric moving. A mirror had been adjusted so Grissom could watch the surgery. Sara watched him.

"Dr. Grissom, step around here." Sara's doctor said. "You should see this up close."

Grissom found her hand and squeezed it before leaving his seat.

The doctor held a smooth round object in her hands. "This is the uterus. Looks good on the outside which means the placenta has not invaded the abdomen." The second physician made a quick incision and a small hand appeared, not much larger than the end of his thumb. Hands moved swiftly.

"Hold out your hands," a voice said. A small cloth was placed over his hands; the surgeon removed the baby from its enclosed sac and placed him in Grissom's hands. "Miracle isn't it," said the same voice.

Sara could see Grissom's eyes above his face mask. He had been excited at Bizzy's birth. He had been amazed and excited when the twins were born. Today, he stood in awe and she knew all the complications of the past weeks had been worth this moment. He turned to her and she saw his blue eyes brimming with tears.

"Is he okay?" She asked.

She saw his head move. "Yes. Perfect. He's beautiful." His voice choked and she heard a soft chuckle. "He's a Grissom." In a few minutes, the baby was put across her chest. Whatever else was done to her body was completed without her awareness of the process. The plump pink baby was perfect, all tiny fingers and toes in the right places, miniature lips that came together making a gurgling sucking sound—nearly identical to those pressed to Sara's hair.

Some nonsense words came out of her mouth. The baby looked at her, breathing a sigh of what sounded like relief, and closed his eyes again without making a single cry. Grissom's finger worked into the small hand.

"This was the first part of him I saw," he said. "Almost waving."

"He knows his dad already." Sara cradled the baby's head. "And look, his hair looks like Annie's and Ava's—I believe I have my little Gilbert." She smiled.

"William," he said. "Not Gilbert."

The baby wiggled, making a wet gurgling sound, and instinctively, she attempted to wrap both arms around him forgetting her right arm was attached to a line. Grissom's hand folded around the baby and the two inspected delicate fingers and tiny pea sized toes and velvet like wrinkles just as thousands of parents do.

Sara's broad smile was one of happiness, relief, and exhaustion. "He is a Grissom." The father of this baby kissed her. "William Gilbert Grissom."

Grissom grunted. Sara knew she heard a pleased, baby-size sound echoing from the baby.

A/N: One more chapter--thanks for reading and your comments!


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: This chapter concludes this story, post "One to Go" by several years. Hope you enjoyed it! Leave us a few words if you did._

**A Few Days with the Grissoms Chapter 12**

Sara ached all over. But she was sitting up; she had walked around the room, and she was holding her son. Released tension she had not known she had let her breathe and smile and relax for the first time in weeks. The nuns had visited, all smiles and quiet voices, passing the little bundle wrapped in soft flannel from hand to hand.

She smiled as she cradled the baby, reflecting on the women's visit. Why did all women coo at babies? How was maternal intuition turned on by a swaddled, button-nosed infant? Will was fascinating—as all her babies had been. His smooth skin and honey-colored hair made her believe that evolution was headed to greater good rather than random chaos.

This little guy slept and ate. Even with surgery, she had opted for rooming-in. She wanted to be able to reach out and touch this miniature form that had caused so much confusion, pain, and happiness. Grissom had stayed with them for twenty-four hours, but she sent him home. She trusted Greg, the women, but she wanted to hear from him that Eli, Bizzy, Annie and Ava were okay. She smiled—she had a family—two little boys as bookends, or, she giggled at her thought, a girly sandwich with the boys as bread.

Her ears picked up sounds through the door. Hospitals had certain sounds, usually hushed, moving equipment, adult voices, even on maternity floors. What she heard was none of those.

The door slowly moved; she heard whispers and a wave of air and smells entered the room. Her children had arrived—she gasped and covered her mouth. Twenty-four hours had passed in a flash, not many hours in a life-time, but twenty-four hours with Greg—no this was not just Greg's influence, she thought. Lilly, the housekeeper, Sister Deborah, and the other women had not seen the sight that met her eyes.

Two small girls were dressed in the tackiest lime green and purple costumes Sara had ever seen. Maybe they were princesses or fairies or leprechauns—it was difficult to tell. Bizzy, had been transformed from a child into—dare she think it—a punk rocker—complete with green goop in her hair, shiny plastic loops around her neck, and patterned socks that looked like black boots.

Eli, her son who was always careful in how he dressed—with an uncanny ability to keep his shirt tucked into his pants all day—stood in the door dressed in a fringed shirt, a cowboy hat, and the plastic marshmallow shooter stuck in his belt. The sound she had heard in the hallway before their appearance had been what was on his feet—cowboy boots clunking on tiled floors.

She glanced at the two men as a sudden shyness had overcome nearly everyone who stood in the doorway. The two little girls ran to their mother, stopping short of leaping into her lap. Wide eyes looked from her to the bundle in her arms. She waved for the others to join them and, instantly, four bodies jostled and squirmed to get close.

"You want to see your brother?" Sara asked as she unfolded the blanket that had the baby wrapped like a tortilla.

"We got presents for him." This came from Bizzy.

"You did? That's so sweet. What did you get?"

A colorful shopping bag from a chain toy store appeared, providing a partial explanation for the dress of her children. Will was not the only one who got presents today. Four pairs of hands and the attentions of their owners turned to pulling objects from the bag. Sara looked up. Greg was holding a camera, recording every minute. Grissom stood to one side, grinning.

Presents appeared—a soft ball, a pair of socks, a cap, and a pacifier—in each hand. Annie held the pacifier, reluctant to part with something she had only recently given up.

"These are so perfect. I know you had a good time shopping! Are you being good to Uncle Greg?"

Heads nodded. Eli said, "Uncle Greg bought us what we wanted! I got boots and this hat!" Everyone was showing off their new clothes, a fairy wand, jangling bracelets, shiny green shoes, enough cheap trinkets to fill a good sized closet.

Grissom took the baby, cradling it to his chest as naturally and carefully as he had once handled fragile insect specimens. Sara was amazed, once again, by the unconditional dedication of this man to his children. She could almost believe in the goodness of mankind, a godly plan set in motion when a man loved a woman.

The visit ended with kisses and an unwillingness to leave their mother until Greg mentioned their next stop. The new brother was forgotten as the rag-tag gaudy group left her room creating more noise in their wake than when they arrived.

Grissom returned shortly.

"You didn't want to eat and play with the group?" She asked.

"No," he said. "I'd rather be placed on a rack than go there—Greg doesn't care, he'll eat anything. And he'll give our children anything they want."

She had moved back to the bed, thankful it was by choice but drained of energy beyond description. "Wake me when Will wakes up. I need a nap."

Grissom pulled a chair to her bedside. "I'll be here." His hand found hers and he brought it to his lips.

"I've missed you," she whispered.

He looked confused. "I'll stay." He reached for a book.

A soft laugh came from Sara. "I mean 'missed you' in the carnal way."

His fingers opened the book, an enigmatic smile on his face. "Woman, you've just had a baby, major surgery. Calm yourself, take a cold shower." He heard her giggle.

"Read to me, Gil."

…Days later, a small package arrived from Las Vegas addressed to Sara. She turned it over inspecting the wrapper as if it would provide a clue.

"Open it." Grissom said as he held the baby in the crook of his elbow and passed a bowl of beans to one of the twins.

Calm had returned to his home. Sara had regained her strength. She looked well, laughed quickly, returned order to the house, and got him out the door with Eli every morning.

Her fingernail separated a pull-tab and she tugged it open. "It's from Greg—a book." A slim volume fell into her hand. Her breath stopped. She opened the cover.

She read aloud, "Dedicated to Sara and Gil, two people who taught me to fly." A separate folded sheet of paper fell from the book.

Grissom picked it up and started to read as Sara turned pages of the book. "Sara and Gil, My publisher thinks this might sell—the story of four children and a new brother and how they have fun with their wild uncle. You know how much I love all of you, especially Sara. Love, Greg."

"Look, it's a drawing of us at the hospital." She turned a page and laughed. "He even put in the swinging bed." The book was no more than twenty pages, written in rhyme with a colorful drawing on each page. Children with similar hair and eyes to those around the table played across the pages, dressed in costumes that children love. The last page was a sketch of two adults, one holding a baby, and four children gathered on steps with flowers surrounding them. A brown dog sat in front of the family.

Later, when darkness had brought sleep to the children, Sara and Grissom lay on the porch bed listening to crickets and frogs, the soft snores of Eli and Will coming from the baby monitor.

The two were wrapped together in the intimate way of familiar lovers, but fully clothed. Sara's fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt.

"It's been a long time," she whispered.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes—as a matter of fact, ever since you had this bed built, I've thought about doing this very thing."

He chuckled, a deep, rumbling from his chest that became a laugh as he rolled to face her. His hand had already found her waistband. "Shed the outerwear, I'll take care of the purple ones."

_A/N: Again, thanks for reading! Leave a review--we want to see triple numbers! Another one in a couple of weeks. Again thanks so much for reading our little bit of fiction. _


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:**_ Here's what happened on the swinging bed as we closed out Chapter 12! Little surprise to celebrate May 1!_

**Epilogue to A Few Days with the Grissoms**

Sara giggled. "Just how do you know my panties are purple?" She asked, continuing to work on his buttons. He had been outside when she showered earlier.

"I have secret ways of knowing these things."

She pushed his shirt away. "You smell good." She tasted the skin on his chest with her lips and tongue. "You taste better."

He hummed, busy with her pants. The bed swayed. Desire sent a powerful message. He was already fiercely aroused. He had found cold showers and entomology texts were short term diversions. He chuckled again as he thought of the previous months. He was desperate.

The pants sailed through the air joining his shirt among toys and porch chairs. He tugged at her shirt—one of those with the bra inside. Easy access, he thought, as his fingers circled her breasts. He was careful, gentle, but his favorite part of her was her breasts. Cupping one in his hand, he kissed along her soft swell; her dark crown was already firm against his lips. Her fingertips played in his hair.

"Dear God, woman, you are heaven." He heard a laugh and he had not gotten to those purple panties. He worked downward, placing kisses, tenderly nibbling her skin until he got to the scar. "It's healed well," he murmured.

She tugged his hair. He continued. Control, he vowed. It had been as long for her, this sensual, sexy warm body that curved up to meet his. He slid palms along her hips. When his fingers found the elastic of her panties, he almost lost his edge. He squeezed gently urging her body snugly into his. Her scent—he inhaled her fragrance. His tongue played into the vortex of her most intimate area. The triangle of panties left his hand with a wave.

A little shiver went through Sara. She made a tiny, breathless sound. Her legs parted to give him more room and he touched his tongue to her thigh. This time her fingers tightened in his hair.

"Gil."

He settled between her legs and inhaled, deeply the exquisite feminine fragrance of the sea, of some spice so rare it could not be named. His tongue played; he brought his hand to her center gently working the sensitive folds with his fingers. She was so wet his hand glistened in the low light. Sara's breath came in gasps as her body clenched. Her hands had moved to the sheets covering the bed. Her hips shifted.

"Gil."

He moved, propelling himself above her body feeling the heat generated between bare skin as his fingers touched her in the most intimate way as she twisted against his erection. She was ready. He eased into her body. His hands caught her face and his mouth covered hers.

Sara's hands clutched against the muscles of his back as a sweet tension continued to build. For seconds they moved together until Grissom sensed her impending climax. Her nails dug into his back. She was gone, no longer aware of what was going on around her. A moment later, she softened. Another few seconds and he plunged into that whirlpool of ocean current, collapsing across her breast, his lips against her neck, an arm curved possessively around her.

For long moments they lay quietly, listening to the same night sounds that continued around them. He was aware of her kisses against his temple. At his ear, she whispered, "It works very well."

Only then did he realize the bed was swaying. He heard her giggle—the same sound made by this woman years ago. She had never lost the ability to make him smile when he heard it.

"The panties have to come down before morning."

He lifted his head. She nodded and he looked above where they lay. Near the ceiling, caught by a spar—a piece of wood that stabilized the ropes—were her panties, blowing gently in the breeze made by the moving swing.

_And this is The End!_


End file.
